I went to a party last weekend. It was a surprise birthday party for a friend who just turned 35. I had a good time, because it was nice to see her and her husband again, but I felt a bit out of place because the party was full of people she grew up with, and I didn't know anyone but her parents. It was ok though, because almost all of the conversation seemed to revolve around babies, baby sitters, baby food, baby daycare and baby poop, and I am an expert in exactly none of these topics.
Needless to say, I didn't have much to offer in the way of intelligent conversation. I'm glad there was wine and beer and really great food, because otherwise I would have been forced to drown myself in the pool.
There were, in fact, two babies in attendence at this particular party, and little knots of excited people formed around them whenever one or the other moved something or otherwise indicated that they were not completely inanimate. Things really got crazy if one of them made any sort of audible noise.
Some of my friends have kids, and some of my older friends even have teenagers now. Teens are actually a lot better in some respects, because at least then you can converse with them instead of just staring at them like they are a canned ham in a basket that someone brought to your dinner party.
One-month-old babies don't actually do a whole helluva lot. Generally, you spend an inordinate amount of time trying to get them to smile, make noise, or otherwise acknowledge your giant face hovering 3 inches in front of their eyes. Truth be told, you would have almost as much luck getting a reaction out of the canned ham. After all, at that age, their relative intelligence levels aren't really that much different.
Don't tell that to their parents though, because they have documented and cataloged everything from the first solid poop to the first time their kid actually found his nostril with his finger, and it all requires a genius IQ. Or at least that's what I'm told.
Here's an example of a typical conversation at this party:
Me: "Is it a boy or a girl?"
Mom: Her name is Elizabeth Anne Johansen-McFurley She's 25 and 1/16ths months old, and weighs 33 pounds which is in the 75th percentile and totally normal for a girl her age She's only about 26 inches tall, but the doctors assured us that she'll be going through a growth-spurt soon, so there's nothing to worry about The other day she did the cutest thing We were at the store and daddy didn't go with us and there was a man in the store that looked kinda like Steve and blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah......
Me: Yeah, I gotta pee.
And at what point, exactly, do you stop giving the age in months and the size in inches? Her kid was 2 years old, and 2 feet tall. Was that so hard? I can't think in months, fer chrissake. I'm math-tarded, especially when you start throwing fractions in there. I have to start carrying a calculator around just to figure out what the hell they're talking about. Either that, or I'm going to have to start screaming, "YEARS! Give it to me in YEARS for FUCK'S SAKE!!"
Bonus points if the kid bursts into tears. Subtract points if Dad kicks the shit out of you.
The other side-effect of PWB (parties with babies) is that people tend to split early. This particular party started at 6pm, and by 10, most people were gone. The next day when we were cleaning up, there was actually beer and wine left over.
That, my friends, is just not right.